storms and angels
by Chimera's Soul
Summary: Mercy is the only one who knows 76's identity. After an argument over his treatment of himself, can soldier earn his last friend back?
1. Chapter 1

She was going to kill him. She was going to wring his stupid, arrogant, stubborn neck and strangle him to death, then bring him back and slap him silly. As soon as she finished patching up his lacerated arm. And his three broken ribs. And finished assessing the severity of his concussion.

She avoided looking at his face as she ran the needle through the long gashes in his bicep. She knew what she would see there. Anger, pain, and cold, dark blue eyes like pools of broken glass. The eyes of a killer, not her Jack. _But you said he's not yours anymore. Remember?_ A small voice in the back of her head whispered. She quickly stamped that part of her brain down and began wrapping his scarred, bruised chest with bandages.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Zeigler. I should have been more careful."

She sighed. He always had the same stiff apology ready for her, to make sure she wouldn't refuse to patch him up.

"No, you're not Morrison. You would go back out there right now, if your biotic field wasn't stolen, and do the same exact things."

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Jack was trying hard to keep his mouth shut. He knew he should just let her do her work and be on his way. But she was refusing to look at him, and that bothered him. He knew she disapproved of his methods, but was he really that disturbing to her? Finally, after trying and failing to catch her eye several times, he couldn't take it.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Zeigler," He murmured, as she wrapped her bandages around his chest. "I should have been more careful."

She sighed, and continued working for a moment, before replying in the same overly level voice she had used when he had limped into her office thirty minutes ago.

"No, you're not Morrison. You would go back out there right now if your biotic field wasn't stolen, and do the same exact things."

He frowned. She was still avoiding eye contact with him. His eye twitched and pulled at the scar on his face. Finally, after four minutes of her managing to patch up a cut on his forehead without meeting his eyes once, his growing irritation got the better of him.

"Angela, look at me." He said, the heat in his own voice surprising him.

"No."

Jack blinked.

"What? Why not?"

Jack felt an uncomfortable tightening in his chest as she let out a short, humorless laugh. That was not like her.

"Because, _76,_ " She spat his alias out of her mouth like poison, "I'm tired of looking at you and seeing proof that my friend really did die in that explosion over and over again."

He growled. He wasn't sure why he was so angry, but he was.

"Oh, so now I'm 76?" He couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried, "Dammit Angela! You think I want to do this? I HAVE to. It's the only way to bring Talon down."

"NO YOU DON'T!" She screamed, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were practically burning, and he almost backed up a step. "The Jack I knew always found a better way. You're not doing this because it's the only way, you're doing it because it's the _easy_ way."

Jack was seething now. Who the hell did this woman think she was? With a herculean effort, he reined in his temper just enough to keep his voice level.

"Easy, Angela? You think this is easy for me?" He asked softly, "I go to sleep every night and see all those faces of people I've failed waiting for me behind my eyelids. Do you think that's easy? Do you think it's easy seeing the one last friend I've allowed myself, look at me like she's disgusted by me?"

Angela glared right back at him, her face dark with anger.

"And what, you think it's easy for me seeing my friend get torn to pieces again and again, night after night, and having nightmares about him getting hurt so badly I can't put him back together?" She turned away from him. "I'm sorry jack, but I can't do that anymore. I lost you once. I won't do it again."

Jack's eyes widened as a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

"Angela, I-"

"Get out Jack."

"But I-"

"Go."

Jack stood there for a few moments, staring at her slender frame, shoulders stiff. He sighed. Grabbing his jacket, he limped past her towards the door. In the doorway, he paused.

"You know, Angela," He muttered, shrugging his jacket on. "Every night I was on my own, cold and injured and hunted by the people that put me back together, I would think of you and what you told me that night in Greece. I think you loved me once. I'm sorry it caused you so much pain."

And with that he left, ignoring the prickling in his eyes and fighting the urge to look back at the small woman standing in the shop. He didn't see the tears fall, or the whispered,

"I still do."


	2. Chapter 2

Devil's in the Details and Maybe Also Bleeding Out On Her Dinner Table

Soldier 76 limped along next to the little boy, keeping his pain silent and hiding the extent of his injuries. Little brat's father was the target of some very rich and powerful men, and by extension he was too. If he hadn't been there, the kid would have been another rallying cry for politicians seeking election. He just had to make sure he got home safe. He supposed he could have simply followed the kid on the rooftops, but his leg was fractured(and he would have been terrified by himself in the dark). he was chattering nervously to him, and the vigilante would nod every few seconds to make him believe he was listening.

"Senor?" The little boy was looking at him expectantly.

"Hmm?" he muttered, still watching the shadows and the rooftops. "Repeat it, I wasn't paying attention."

"I was wondering why the news people all call you a criminal, even though you help people and beat up bad guys. Aren't you a hero?"

He snorted.

"I'm no hero kid. I'm just doing what I've always done. I'm a soldier."

The little boy frowned at him as if he'd just said something stupid, and he couldn't help but smirk under the visor.

"If you are not a hero, why did you beat up those men and save me?"

Jack shrugged.

"It was the right thing to do. You don't have to be a hero to do the right thing." Soldier put his attention back to the road ahead and noticed the kid's house on the right. "There it is kid. Go to bed, and no more sneaking out."

He watched the kid run to the doorway and turn around to begin limping his way back to the abandoned church he was staying at for the time being. Before he got four steps he heard the hammer cock back. By the time he turned around the shot went off, and he saw the kid fly back and fall on his back, spasming on the ground and dark liquid pooling on the sidewalk as dark figures sprinted out of the house into the night. No. nonononoNO. Soldier ran after them, gaining rapidly, until he got to the boy and Jack froze. The kid was in bad shape. He needed to get to the hospital now, or he wasn't going to make it, as it was Jack could tell he would never walk again. But he couldn't just let those thugs get away with this. Looking back and forth between the receding figures and the little boy, he made his decision.

##############################################################################

Angela was sitting down to a delicious leftover roast chicken from the restaurant she'd spoken at last night when she heard a slamming on her door, three precise, heavy raps of a fist. Since she wasn't interested in entertaining another of her neighbor charlie's wild date proposals, she ignored it. And heard it again, harder and somehow sloppier. She frowned. Was the man drunk?

Sighing and looking regretfully at her chicken, she walked over to the door and opened it in a huff, fully prepared to give Charlie a piece of her mind and significantly less prepared to catch a barely conscious Soldier 76 as he slumped forward, covered in blood. By some miracle she managed to avoid being bowled over by the man's weight and immediately felt her heart go cold as she felt his blood soaking her clothes and saw it pooling on the floor from his visor.

"Dammit Jack," She felt her fear clawing at her eyes as they started to prick, "What on EARTH did you do to yourself now?"

He tried to mumble something about overtaxing and spines.

"Nevermind, I don't want to know." She said, shivering at what that could possibly mean.

Supporting him with her shoulder, she led him to her kitchen table and carelessly swept its contents onto the floor so she could lay him down. After yanking the mans signature jacket off and removing his visor, her stomach plummeted at what she saw. His torso was covered in cuts, bruises, and at least two bullet holes and there was a steady stream of blood coming from his mouth.

"Dammit jack!" She shouted, tears falling as she started stemming the bleeding. There was a lot of damage. "Was it really worth it? Was killing some thugs really worth nearly killing yourself?

She was to focused to really pay attention to his reply, but she caught the her name, over and over. Eventually he fell unconscious. Finally, after 6 hours and 7 hours of nanite therapy she was able to fix the worst of the damage, though he wouldn't be able to move with any real strength for at least a month, even with his accelerated healing. What on earth had he done to himself? Knowing him, there was already a small mountain of corpses on the news, and for once she really wanted to know what had happened to have him destroy himself so thoroughly. Falling wearily onto the couch, she flipped to the news and braced herself for the disappointment and the pain in her chest she always felt when she saw Jack's deeds on the news.

" _Our top story tonight is the latest sighting of the infamous vigilante soldier 76, who according to eyewitnesses was seen sprinting through the local hospital doors with the gravely injured son of attorney general Maxwell Kaplan. The boy was immediately rushed to surgery where he still remains, and while doctors are now confident the boy will most likely survive they are sadly also certain he will never walk again. The Vigilante immediately fled the scene after seeing the boy safely to the OR, and eye witness reports claim that he himself was heavily bleeding with multiple cuts and lacerations as well as what appeared to be a severe case of asthma due to wheezing breath. In related news the three men implicated in the attempted murder of the kaplan boy have been apprehended by police, and all three have apparently suffered massive trauma to the legs and spine, though all three are still allegedly alive."_

Angela stared in shock at the soldier on the table. Perhaps, she thought, Jack Morrison was alive after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** only about half done with the next hunter chapter, so I wrote this up to tide ya'll over. It's kind of a last minute idea, so it's not my best in my opinion, but I think it's a good one still. Hope ya'll enjoy.

Dancing

Jack woke up on a kitchen table feeling like he'd just survived a nuclear blast. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, but he immediately realized he wasn't alone. Turning his head as much as he was able to in his current state, he saw Angela, passed out with her head on the table. Frowning, he tried to recall what it was he'd done to wind up injured and unconscious on her kitchen table, but he couldn't remember anything past rushing the boy to the hospital. Forcing his protesting body to work, he sat up and swung his legs over the table, being careful not to scratch the table with his prosthetic. It had been a gift from her grandmother if Jack recalled correctly. Sighing as he stretched out his muscles, he stood and made his painful way over to where he saw his shredded gear. The jacket was ruined, the body armor had multiple holes, and his visor was cracked. Even his undershirt was ruined, leaving him in just his combat boots and tactical pants.

"Well, I guess I'm not going anywhere." He muttered to himself. Glancing back to where Angela slept, he couldn't help but notice she looked uncomfortable. Before he completely registered what he was doing, he had picked her up. His breath froze when she stirred in his arms. As tough as he was, he didn't know if he would survive Angela's wrath if she found him holding her when he knew he didn't have the right. But she simply muttered incoherently and snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his neck and breathing softly against him as he carried her over to the couch. She'd obviously saved his life again, he rationalized, it was only fair he help her out with something so simple. Laying her down gently despite the burning in his still recovering muscles, he covered her as best he could with the throw blanket draped over the back and, with nothing else to do until she woke and no willpower to wake her even if he knew he was being stupid, he started wandering around the apartment, missing cracked blue eye watching him as he moved around the apartment.

############################################################################

Angela woke immediately when she felt someone wrap their arms around her, her combat instincts kicking into overdrive, but she paused when she felt the distinctly warm metal of an integrated prosthetic and the unique smell that was constantly invading her dreams enveloped her. She thought about telling the Vigilante off, telling him to put her down this instant and how dare he, but she couldn't find the will. It had been so long since she'd felt this, so she simply pretended to be asleep and enjoy being close to him while she could, burying her nose into his neck and breathing against him as he carried over and gently laid her down. She couldn't help but crack an eye then, watching as he wandered aimlessly around the apartment, she couldn't help but feel he looked lost. Something in the way he carried his weight, as if he was weighed down by something. He paused in front of the old record player she kept on the mantle, and simply stared at it for a while. Finally, Angela decided she couldn't keep quiet. She had sworn to cut him out of her life, but she supposed she just didn't have it in her. She took a deep breath.

############################################################################

"You should really be resting, 76," the voice snapped Jack out of his thoughts and brought him back to reality. Shame, it had been a good daydream.

"Your awake," He muttered, turning around to face the beautiful doctor, trying his best to make his face impassive. " I appreciate the patch up. If you happen to have a shirt and something to cover my face up, I'll leave."

"No."

There it was again. Just like the last time he'd talked to her, just one word that seemed to hold so much. He responded the only way he felt he could.

"No?"

She nodded and stood up, walking past him, turning on the record player and letting soft music fill the room.

"No. I think that after all I've done for you, the least you can do is actually listen to what I have to say for once." She paused and smirked at him just a little, "Plus, it's not every day I get to say I trapped the great 76."

Jack raised a brow at her. What kind of game was she playing? Well, he supposed he would find out. After all she was right, he was trapped.

"Alright. Talk."

############################################################################

"Alright," He said, watching her the whole while like a dangerous animal, "Talk."

Angela suppressed a sigh at his tone of voice: guarded, apprehensive. She almost preferred the reckless self loathing. Almost. Getting through to him with words would be nigh impossible, but what else did she have? Glancing over at the record machine still playing soft music, a crazy idea entered her head. It was almost sure to fail, but almost was better than certain in her book. She walked up to Jack, making sure to invade his personal space just a little, as she'd learned that the only way to confront the man about anything was directly and to the point.

"Dance with me." she said, looking into his eyes and nearly laughing at the genuine shock there. This was clearly not what he'd been expecting.

"I don't dance Zeigler." He said, and this time she did grin at him.

"You said the same thing in Numbani all those years ago, Morrison," She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him, forcing him to take a step to support her weight. " but I remember you actually being quite good."

She felt the sigh heave through his bare chest as he reluctantly placed his hands on her hips and started swaying back and forth to the music, his movements so miniscule that if she didn't feel the gentle pressure and he lead her around her living room floor she wouldn't have believed they were moving. She looked up at him with a frown.

"No need to be so dramatic about it 76, I doubt dancing with me is the least pleasant thing you've gone through." She waited for a response, but when she got none she simply laid her head back against his shoulder and allowed herself a few moments of indulging in the feeling, false though it was, of having her lover back. She got so lost that when he did speak, she nearly missed it.

"Please don't call me that Angela."

His voice was quiet, pensive, and it had lost nearly all of the rough edge he normally spoke with. Still, more surprising was what he'd said.

"Why not?" She asked. She made sure to watch him carefully as she continued, "that's who you are now isn't it? You said so yourself."

"Not to you."

The response was so immediate and so vehement that she didn't have time to respond before he continued.

"I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing, its the only way to get justice for everyone that was wronged when Overwatch fell," He said it confidently, and she couldn't help but admire that. But then, she'd fallen for him because of his stubborn will in the first place. "But… I don't want you to see me as a soldier, or a hero, or a charity case or anything else. I just want to be Jack to you, or even just Morrison. I know I don't have any right to ask you for anything, but could you do me that one favor?"

He finished as rapidly as he began, and now seemed to be anxiously awaiting a response as he continued to hold her and sway to the music.

"Oh Jack," she muttered softly, crushing herself closer to him and feeling his heartbeat against her," of course. It's not a favor. You're my friend, I just want you to be happy."

He sighed.

"I can't be Angela. Not while the people who tore my family apart are still out there. You make me a better person, and I think…" she felt him take a deep breath, "I think if I were to stay with you, I could be happy with myself. But the world doesn't need me to be a good man. It needs a soldier, and soldiers do what needs doing."

She felt her heart sink as he let her go. She looked up into his eyes. He was gone again. She held back her tears as best she could.

"I'll be needing a shirt if you have one Angela. And something to cover my face."

He said it with that same gruff, impassive voice that she now identified as him hiding. She sighed.

"Dresser on the second floor, they're already waiting for you."

He nodded, and she knew he wouldn't come back down the stairs. And so she curled up on the cold, empty couch, and cried for the man she lost all those years ago.


End file.
